


A Good Man is Hard to Find

by ChibiDawn23



Category: CSI: NY
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:26:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 16,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23253928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChibiDawn23/pseuds/ChibiDawn23
Summary: Set in 1920s Prohibition-era NYC, Flack stars as a surly detective who takes the case of one Lindsay Monroe, intent on finding her mob informant boyfriend who's disappeared.
Relationships: Danny Messer/Lindsay Monroe, Stella Bonasera/Don Flack





	1. Chapter 1

**_New York City, May 1922_ **

_God, I'd kill for a drink._

As I sit in my office chair, chewing on a cigarette, watching the smoke curl up into the sunlight streaming through my semi-open blinds, I can't help but think how much I'd kill for a drink. Whole city jumped on board with this Prohibition thing. Can't buy a drop of alcohol anywhere in New York City.

 _They_ picked a hell of a time for _me_ to quit drinking. I prop my legs up on my desk and tap the cigarette in the ashtray. It's unseasonably warm for May in New York City. The ceiling fan ain't doin' a thing to keep the office cool. I loosen my tie and roll up my sleeves. _Sure would be nice to have a nice cold drink_ , I lament, cursing the city for Prohibition.

I can curse the city for Prohibition for other reasons too. Like the sudden rise in crime, the increase in dead bodies popping up all over my city. Lucky for me, I don't have to deal with it. I'm a PI, a private investigator. The NYPD gets to handle all the tough stuff. I ain't the one gettin' shot at on a daily basis, I'm not the one trying to bust the Sassone ring. Leave that to the "professionals." Hell, I haven't had a job in three months. Got just enough money to buy cigarettes.

The office is proof of that. Peeling paint, holes in the wall, revealing the wood frame behind. My ceiling fan doesn't work. My chair squeaks every time I turn in it. Entire place smells like cig smoke. The wood floor creaks, especially over by the door. I just know one of these days I'm gonna come back to the place and end up three floors below when I walk through the door. Even the coat rack behind the door is a little wobbly. Sits cockeyed, but if I put my hat in the right spot, I can make it balance. Can't do it with my coat, though, I toss the coat and the damn things falls over. No, my coat is tossed over the radiator, which I know doesn't work in the winter, so it ain't on now. There are days when being a PI sure as hell ain't as glamorous as people would think.

There's a knock on my door. My name's on the door, but there's a few letters missing. I glance up, taking a drag on my cigarette. Through the frosted glass I can just make out a silhouette. The silhouette is that of a woman. She's instantly recognizable. Tall, long hair, slim legs, great body. She's wearing a skirt that falls to just above her knees and a low-cut blouse. I can't tell that through the window, but I saw her when I came in this morning.

"Yeah?" I call out shortly. The door squeaks open, and in walks my secretary. Her name's Stella Bonasera, and there ain't a better lookin' woman in New York City than her. Today her hair is loose and wild and she's wearing her reading glasses. Most of the women in this city chopped their hair short. But not my Stella. She looks at me and smiles.

"Heya, Flack," she says. Aw hell, just those two words are enough to turn me on. She stops and sniffs the air, then grins at me. "You been smokin' again?"

"It's all I got now, doll," I reply. "Damn city took away my alcohol."

"Good, you're a rude, short-tempered drunk anyway," Stella shoots back. She's the only person that can get away with mouthin' off to me. "I came in here to brighten your day a little."

"Oh you did, huh?" I tease her. She's also one of the few people that can improve my surly mood. I haven't had a drink in five months, and I'm feelin' it. She knows it. She also knows that's why I'm constantly being an ass. So help me, I love my alcohol. "And tell me, Ms. Bonasera, how to you plan to improve my day?"

She tosses a piece of paper on my desk. "You got a call."

I look at her and make a face. "Stel, that ain't exactly what I was hopin' for."

She leans forward, resting her hands on the front edge of my desk and getting' right in my face. "Honey, I know what you were hopin' for."

"Any chance one day I'm gonna get it?" I ask her with a smile.

"Sure, Flack," she says. "When you stop bein' such a jerk." With that, she straightens and starts walkin' for the door. Damn, but I'm lovin' the view. "Quit starin' at my ass," she calls behind her. "And your client's gonna be here in twenty minutes." She closes the door behind her.

I look at the note that she gave me. Penned in her swirly script is the name _Lindsay Monroe, 2125 5_ _th_ _Avenue_. Damn, she's high class. I wonder why she's comin' to me instead of goin' to the real police. I look at my watch. I've got fifteen minutes before she's supposed to show up on my doorstep. I look around, wondering what I can do to clean up the place before she gets here. Then I say screw it. Little Miss High Class is gonna get my services, look included. I get up and head for the bathroom. I turn on the light and look at myself in the cracked mirror. My hair's longer than I'd like, and I'm sportin' a pretty nice five o'clock shadow. I rub a hand over my chin, feeling the few days' worth of stubble. I look like hell. Maybe it's the heat, maybe it's the fact that I've been dry for five months, I ain't exactly sure. I turn on the water and catch some in my hands before rubbing my face down, trying to look a little less grimy. Doesn't look like it's helped much.

A voice yells from the other room, "Quit makin' yourself beautiful. It's a lost cause!"

I turn off the water, realize I don't have a towel, and I rub my face dry with my sleeve. I probably just added a bunch of dirt to it again, but I don't really care. I head back into my office and prop myself in my chair again to wait for my high-class client. I take another drag on my cigarette and blow out the smoke in perfect rings. Everyone's gotta have a talent, right?

Stella knocks on my door again and opens it just a crack. "If you're decent, handsome, she's here."

I decide it would probably look unprofessional if I leave my feet propped on my desk, so I sit up straight and take one last puff on the cigarette. "Yeah, okay, beautiful," I tell Stella. "Go on and send her in."

Stella steps aside and my client comes through the door. She's exactly what I expect from someone from Fifth Avenue. She's went with the trend, cutting her hair straight and short, topping it with a black hat with a white rose. Her black dress is simple but short and low cut, accenting her...ah, assets, quite nicely. She's got on a pair of black heels and is clutching a purse like her entire life is inside. Automatically I check her hand. No ring. She's got big brown eyes and full lips. This woman is good lookin' in her own right. She doesn't top my Stella, but she ain't half bad.

"Mr. Flack?" she asks, taking a look around the place. I can tell she doesn't approve of the place. I don't give a damn. She looks back at me and gives me the same damn once-over look. "A-are you Donald Flack?"

I wince. I make a mental note to have Stella pull my first name from the door and the advertisement. "Flack. Just Flack. Mr. Flack's my father." Actually, _Officer_ Flack was my father, but I really don't want to get in to that, especially not with her. "And you are?"

"Mr. Flack-" she pauses. High class habits die hard, I suppose. "Flack," she amends with an apologetic look. "My name is Lindsay Monroe. I need your help."


	2. Chapter 2

I can't help but roll my eyes. "Yeah, I got that part," I say dryly. "What can I do for you, Miss Monroe?"

"I need you to find someone for me." She steps further into my office as she rummages through her purse for something. Behind her, I see Stella looking at me. She gives me a smile. I raise my eyebrows. _You're leaving me in here with her_?

She mouths, _Behave yourself_ , before closing the door.

Monroe jumps as the door squeaks shut. But she finally has something in her hand. She hands it to me. It's a photograph of a young man. He's wearing glasses and a decent cut suit. What interests me more is that it's only half a picture. It's been torn in two. He's carrying a small pistol in the photo. I look up at her. "And who might this be?" I ask her.

She inspects my chair that I have for clients to sit in, trying to see if it's flea-infested or something, I suppose, and finally decides its safe to sit down. "That is my boyfriend, Danny Messer," she explains. "He's a little taller than me, blonde hair, he's got blue eyes you could lose yourself in..." she stops.

"Why is the picture in half? His old flame next to him?"

"It's him and some...business associates," Monroe replies. From her tone I can tell she doesn't approve of whatever...business, her boyfriend is in.

"No offense, sweetheart, but he doesn't exactly look like the Fifth Avenue type," I tell her as I study the picture. I am picking out other things in the picture, like the type of gun he's holding and the background of the picture.

"He's from the Bronx," Monroe replies. "Obviously, my family doesn't approve."

"So, why am I lookin' for him?" I ask her. "Daddy threaten him for tryin' to court his little princess? He run off and now you're tryin' to find him so you can elope?"

Monroe looks at me, clearly annoyed with my attitude. "Danny works for Sonny Sassone."

 _Sassone._ I narrow my eyes. That's a name I know. Sonny Sassone, he's like the Al Capone of New York City. He's got his fingers in everything. The cops have been tryin' to bust him for runnin' a bunch of speakeasies and brewin' his own booze, but they can't pin anything on him. I also suspect he's makin' more than just alcohol. He's a ruthless son of a bitch, something I know all too well. "How'd he get messed up with Sassone?" I ask.

She crosses her legs, and her skirt slides up her leg just a little. Enough so I notice. "He had a job at his uncle's linoleum factory until they went under. Danny was looking for work. He just thought he was running errands, you know," she says. She looks up at me and smiles sadly. "That was how I met him. He shared a cab with me one night...we hit it off right away. My father, of course, didn't approve of him. But there was something about him, he had a...a dangerous air about him." She's blushing now. Kid's in love, that much is obvious. "Anyway," she continues, "as is what usually happens, he got in too deep. He found out about what Sassone _really_ does when the speakeasies close at midnight."

"So what happened then?" I ask her. I have a feeling I have an idea. Obviously, Messer stumbled onto something he wasn't supposed to see, Sassone found out, and decided to make him disappear.

"Danny turned into a rat," Monroe says.

Ah. Wasn't expecting that.

"He was going to go to the police and tell them everything," she tells me. She's starting to cry, pulls out a handkerchief from her clutch and dabs at her eyes. "He said he wanted to-to do right by me. Do something that would make me proud of him." The tears are fallin' like Niagara Falls now. And I ain't much good at this whole comfortin' a woman thing. She looks up at me. "He was supposed to meet me last night...but he never showed up. He's never been late to see me, and he was going to go to the cops today. I haven't seen or heard from him. I've gone to all the places he might hide out, but haven't found him yet."

She surprises me, this Fifth-Avenue girl. If this Danny Messer is lower class and workin' for Sassone, then the places he might hide out are about as far from Fifth Avenue as you can get. She's startin' to impress me now.

"So why don't you go to the police?" I ask her. I know the Chief at Precinct 6. Taylor. He's a good guy. We butt heads occasionally, but I got nothin' but respect for him.

"Please," she scoffs, in a tight voice that shocks me. "The police won't go looking for one gangster. As far as they're concerned, my Danny is buried in a field somewhere." She leans forward, puts her hands on my desk, and looks me right in the eye. "Sir, I _know_ that he is still out there. He's smart, he's got street sense. And he's _not_ dead. I would know," she says, her voice breaking again. "I-I would _feel_ it."

Taylor and the NYPD are probably right. "Her" Danny is probably six feet under somewhere. But I want Sassone. I want him so bad I can taste it. And I've been around Stella Bonasera enough to know that there's somethin' to women's intuition. If I can find this Messer kid, get him in to protective custody, he could maybe blow the whole Sassone ring wide open. Justice would finally catch up with the son of a bitch.

"I'll pay you whatever it takes. I have the money, my father left me his estate-" Money hadn't even crossed my mind yet, to be honest. I'm more concerned with nailing Sassone than anything. I hold up a hand, cutting her off at the pass. "Miss Monroe, I'll take your case."


	3. Chapter 3

Lindsay Monroe left about two hours ago, and I'm still in my office tryin' to figure out where I want to start. She's given me a list of places Messer would hide out, along with his address in the Bronx.

Stella comes into my office with a mug of coffee. "So, Sassone, huh?" she says.

"You been eavesdroppin' through the door again, Stel?" I accept the coffee as she sits down.

She smiles. "No, honey, course not. That woman just likes to talk, that's all, and unlike with you, she needed a sympathetic ear."

I shake my head and smile. "Yeah, Sassone," I reply.

"Look, Flack, I know you don' have a badge or anything but..." Stella's tone is serious. She gets that motherly tone sometimes. "But you _will_ have some sort of integrity while you're on this case, right?"

"What are you talkin' about, Stella?"

"I'm talkin' about what you might do if you ever get Sassone in a room alone," she says. "You _know_ what I'm talkin' about."

"You think I'm not gonna let him live long enough to see the inside of a prison cell," I say. Damn, her coffee is good. The best in Manhattan, I swear. But even the coffee can't take my mind off of Sassone.

"Exactly," she tells me. "I know you hate him. I would too."

"You have no idea how I feel about him," I shoot back.

"Yeah, Flack? That's what you think? Who's been with ya since day one of all this, huh?" she demands. "I think if anyone in this city knows how you feel about Sassone and what you'd like to do to him, it's me." She gets up, storms for the door.

I hate seeing her like this. I hate fightin' with her. "Stel-" I start, but she whirls around, glaring at me.

"You just promise me that you'll be careful, and that you'll be good," she tells me before slamming my office door. It closes hard enough that one of the hinges falls off the door. "And I ain't fixin' that!" she yells from the other side of the door.

I wouldn't have expected her to. And I'm gonna be good. I want Sassone dead, but I want it to be long and slow and preferably in a six by six cement hole. I want to see the look on his face when they convict him of everything. As I drain the last of my coffee, I know exactly where to start.

The Blackjack is a little hole in the wall on Broadway. Everybody that goes there knows it's owned by Sonny Sassone. Everyone that goes there knows what Sassone does. Most of them don't care.

And everyone that goes there knows me.

I step through the doors. They can make me for a PI just by lookin' at me. They know I'm no patron. I'm wearin' my hat, I love that hat, and my trenchcoat, even though it's gotta be pushing ninety-five degrees outside. I like it. Plenty of pockets to hold my gun. The Blackjack has a bar along one side. There's no alcohol on its shelves, but I know it's all in a hidden icebox. There's about twenty tables, and they're all full, even though it's only two o'clock on a Wednesday. There's a piano player belting out some jazz tune on the other wall. He stops as soon as I walk in. In fact, everything stops. I feel about a hundred pairs of eyes on me.

"Take it easy, folks. Go on back to your business," I hear a slick voice say. My skin crawls. I know that voice. And I see him as I look at the booths along the back wall. It's hard to see through the cloud of cigar and cigarette smoke, but I thread my way. The piano player's a black guy, he stares at me as I pass him. "What's your name?" I ask him.

"Hawkes, sir."

I toss him a dollar. "Keep playin,'" I tell him. He obliges me. I step forward, and there through the smoke is Sonny Sassone. He's wearin' a blue pinstripe suit and a black tie. His white hat is tipped sideways on his head. He's got a girl on each arm, and I can clearly see two of his right hand men have bulges in their pockets that belong to firearms. I'm in enemy territory. It would be so easy right now to pop him right here. And the world would be rid of one more gangster. And then maybe I could sleep easier at night. And then maybe...I push the thoughts to the back of my mind and concentrate on the oily fella in front of me.

"If it ain't Donald Flack, Junior," Sassone says. He takes a drag on his cigar and blows the smoke straight at me. I ignore it, but I feel like I'm choking. Like hell if I'll give him the satisfaction, though. "Pull up a chair, Flack."

I grin; I can play this game. "I'm good standin,', Sonny," I reply. I wave my hand around. "Look like you're doin' well for yourself."

"You got nothin' on me, Flack," Sonny says. "Ain't nothing sayin' otherwise that this ain't a legitimate business."

"I ain't here to bust your chops, Sonny," I tell him. I bend down, get right in his face. I hear his boys pull the safeties off their guns. I'm invading his personal space, lettin' him know I'm serious. "I'm here to tell you that I got a job. You're my new case. So you'll be seein' a lot more of me around," I enjoy the look on his face. He's tryin' to act nonchalant, but I can see a tinge of fear behind his eyes. "You have a good day," I tip my hat in his direction before turning to walk out.

"This is about that Messer kid, ain't it?"

I stop, but don't turn around. Doesn't make any sense for me to confirm what he already knows.

"My boys'll find him first, Flack," Sonny calls to me. "And when I find him, he and I will have a nice long chat."

This time I do turn around. "That a threat, Sassone?" I can't resist.

He takes a drag on his cigar. "Naw, Flack. I'm just sayin,' that's all." He looks over at the bartender. "Marty, give my good friend Flack over there a drink."

Marty disappears below the bar and reappears with a cold one. "Sonny, you know this is illegal, yeah?" I call over to him.

The son of a bitch doesn't even break. He just grins that slick oily grin at me and says, "You gonna turn me in, my friend?" We both know I'm not going to. I want him for more than just illegal booze. I drain half the bottle in one stop, then slam the other half on the bar. "Be seein' you, Sonny," I say as I step out into the evening. I'm in a better mood now, I got my first drink in five months. Thank goodness for small favors.

As I leave the Blackjack, it occurs to me: _I gotta find Messer first. If Sonny gets ahold of him again...the kid's dead._

My next stop is at Danny Messer's rundown apartment in the Bronx. There isn't a key to get in, and I can't find the super. So I use my elbow, break the glass on the window near the fire escape and ah... let myself in. The place is really bare. There's a table and two chairs in the kitchen. The linoleum's peeling in a few spots. His sink has a constant drip that's driving me crazy. The carpet in the living room looks like someone tracked half of Central Park through it. The couch and the armchair in the living room are real shabby. The place has definitely been tossed, the cushions are everywhere, there's broken plates in the kitchen. Sassone's boys have been here. Probably looking for him, or maybe lookin' to see if he'd written anything down pertaining to Sonny's less-than-legitimate activities. From the way the place looks, if there was anything written down, Sassone's boys probably found it. But I start to look the place over anyway. I inspect the kitchen first, looking for any popped drawers or compartments. Place looks like it's fallin' apart, but Messer looks like he tries to keep it in decent shape.

I find nothing in the kitchen, so instead of checking out the bare living room, I head for Messer's bedroom. Again, the place is in disarray. I toss the mattresses back on the bed, trying to find the floor. There's nothing in the dresser. I even go through all the clothes that were tossed onto the floor in case he hid something in a pair of socks or in a breast pocket. I got nothin'. I stand and look around the room. I know places like this don't have roof access or storage anywhere else in the building. If Danny Messer had a log of illegal activity, it's not-hold on a second.

I've been shifting from foot to foot while I've been thinkin', and one of the boards under my foot is loose. It could be just that, a loose board...or it might be...I crouch down and start tugging on the floor. The board is definitely loose. I find a spot where it doesn't quite meet with the board next to it and start tugging again. The board pops up. I set it aside.

Tucked below the board is a very small notebook. I pull it out and start flipping through it.

 _Bingo!_ This Messer kid takes great notes.

_21 May_

_Sassone asked me to deliver a parcel downtown to Salvador Zabo. I don't ask what's in it; I figure it's safer that way. I know Sassone's a less-than-honorable fella, but he pays me decent. As soon as I get enough money, I'm done anyway. Gonna take my Lindsay and head West, go somewhere and get outta the city. She's a country girl at heart. I'd love to move her out to a farm somewhere, get her outta the city. Safer out west._

The next entry is dated yesterday.

_24 May_

_It's been all over the papers that they can't find Enrique Salvatore. Well, they can stop lookin' cause I know where he is. I saw Sassone's boys haulin' something out of the back of the Blackjack this mornin'. I'm sure it was Salvatore. Later I went to go get my paycheck, and before I could open the door I hear Sonny inside._

_"...so the next shipment can be moved anytime."_

_"And Salvatore?"_

_"Salvatore should have known better than to try to cross me. He got what he deserved."_

_I'm not sure what 'shipment' they're talkin' about but I know it's probably not good. Think it's time for me to talk to the cops-_

It stops there. But the 's' in 'cops' looks trailed off, like his hand slipped. Chances are he was midway through writing it when the boys came to toss his place. I don't see any blood or anythin' in the apartment, so I'm guessing he got out through the fire escape.

I tuck the notebook into my pocket and let myself out of Messer's apartment. I think it's time Taylor and the boys at the 6th Precinct know what's goin' down.


	4. Chapter 4

How do I begin to describe Mac Taylor? He's about twenty years older than me, and I ain't exactly the cream of the crop anymore, if that's any indication. Keeps his hair cut short; supposedly, he went over in World War I to fight in the trenches. He's no-nonsense, completely by the book. And he don't take hell from anyone-and that especially means me. We've butted heads in the past. I tend to be not-so-much 'by the book.' I do what it takes to get a job done. Taylor doesn't always approve of my methods. Plus, if I can 'toot my own horn' as it were, when I solve a case that stumps his boys, the look on his face is priceless.

It's four-thirty when I stroll into the bullpen of Precinct 6. I nod to a few fellow officers. There's one kid, he's a rookie, but for some reason I'm his hero. I see him comin' up to me now as I look around for Taylor.

"What say ya, Flack?" he asks me with this big kid grin.

I smile. "I say you're still too young to be a beat cop, Ross."

Officer Adam Ross grins at me. "Nice to see ya, too. Chief's in his office." His tone gets quiet as he leans in close to me, like he's got a secret the world ain't ready for. "Been in a real sorta sour mood lately."

"Got anything to do with Sassone?" I whisper back.

Ross nods knowingly. "Got everything to do with Sassone."

"Well, maybe I can improve his mood," I say. "Take care of yourself, kid. These are some mean streets these days."

He nods. "Always do." With that, he puts on his hat and heads out the door, presumably to get back on his beat. I thread my way through the boys in blue 'til I get to the door marked "Mac Taylor." I don't even knock. I push open the door like I own the place.

Taylor looks up at me from his desk. "Flack. What the hell are you doin' here?"

"Nice to see you too, Taylor," I reply. "Heard Sassone's been givin' you a hard time."

Taylor points to the map on his wall that's got all the trouble spots in the city marked with red pins. Bodies are in black. There's a lot of those. He raises his eyebrows as if to say, _You think_?

"What if I told you I have the nail in Sassone's coffin?" I ask him, grinnin' ear to ear.

He looks at me. "Really. And just what do you have that all the men in my employ can't seem to find?"

I'm still grinnin' as I hand him the photo of Danny Messer. "That boy right there has decided to turn snitch." I toss Messer's notebook on his desk, then stand back and cross my arms, watching his expression as he weeds through it.

He finally looks up at me. "And where is this snitch?"

I point out the window. "Somewhere out there."

"Excuse me?" Taylor sounds pissed. That's the Mac Taylor I know.

I shrug. "Currently, Mr. Messer is on the run. I've been hired to find him by his girlfriend."

"You let my boys handle this, Flack. He needs to be brought in-"

"In the most discreet manner possible, sir," I say. I knew this was comin,' so I tossed in the sir to stay in his good graces, and Taylor's got his heart in the right place, it's his execution I worry about. "You send in a bunch of uniforms, sirens blarin', lights blazin' and this kid is likely to stay hidden. Even your plainclothes boys would get made the second they stepped out of this building. I can bring him in and Sassone'll never know. Your boys bring him in, it'll be on the front covers of the _Times_ and the _Post_ by tomorrow's early edition. Which Sassone will get his hands on. And I ain't exactly sure that your boys all keep their noses clean on duty."

Taylor's furious. There's this nice little vein that pops on his forehead when he's upset. "Are you accusin' my officers-"

"No, sir. Not accusin'. Just sayin' is all." With that, I take my photo back from him and snatch up the notebook. "Give me 48 hours, sir. I can bring him in. I'll let you have the credit for bustin' Sassone when it comes that time."

Taylor looks at me in disbelief. "You'd give me the credit for bustin' Sassone? I know you'd love nothin' more than to put two holes in his temples and drink a beer over his glassy eyes." His eyes bore holes into mine. "I know your beef with Sassone."

I get down eye level with him, right in his face, the same I did with Sassone. "That sonofabitch got away with murderin' my father. You're right, I'd love nothin' more than to chop him into tiny pieces and bury him myself. But I'd much rather see that smug smile of his fade away when a jury convicts him. I'd rather see him rot and waste away in a prison cell. No, Taylor. Killin' him wouldn't be enough." I straighten again. "48 hours." With that, I leave his office and go in search of Miss Lindsay Monroe. She needs to be updated on the day's events. And I need to blow off some steam. Talkin' about my father gets me riled like that.

I stop outside for just a second and take a seat on the steps of the precinct. I need to calm down a little bit before I go to see Monroe. I'm pissed, but hell if I'll take it out on a lady.

You see, my father, Donald Flack Senior was a beat cop. Two of Sassone's idiot gofers were in a bar one night braggin' up all their exploits. They didn't know Pop was in the bar, too. Off duty. Sullivan's was a place he frequented a lot. My mother never condoned it. She doesn't need to worry anymore. They kept talkin' about some big job, some big transfer that was set to go down that night. Well, Pop followed them to the pier...and he never came back. I know it was Sassone. Half the city knows it was Sassone's boys responsible. But we can't pin anything on them. But I know that Sassone probably was there. I bet he probably cracked a cold one open and said somethin' highfalutin in Italian before toasting my Pop's dead body.

Maybe it's easier to see now why I want Sassone's family jewels on the chopping block.


	5. Chapter 5

Lindsay Monroe lives in one of the larger high rises in New York City, and one of the newer ones. She wasn't kiddin' when she told me she had the money- the door's got one of them tails-wearin' guys that stands outside and opens it for you. The guy holdin' the door for me is older, with white hair and glasses. He tips his hat my direction. "Good evenin' to you, sir," he says.

"Can you tell me where I could find Lindsay Monroe?" I ask him.

He nods. "Penthouse, 25th floor." He looks me over. Obviously I don't look like I belong in his building. "Might I inquire as to your business?"

"Absolutely, sir. I'm here to talk with her about her gangster boyfriend." With a tip of my hat and a nod, I brush by him and head for the penthouse, chuckling the whole way at the look on the fellow's face.

When I get there I knock on the door. This is definitely the swankiest place I've ever been in before. I knock on the painted white wood door and wait.

"Who is it?" Monroe's voice answers a few seconds later.

"Don Flack, ma'am."

There's a few clicks as she slides back the bolt and steps aside to let me in. She's changed clothes, now wearing a dress that falls to the floor. She's not wearing any shoes, just her stockings. "Flack. Please, come in," she says as she steps back so I can enter the foyer. I remove my hat and nod to her. Her place is decked in white and gold accents. She's got white carpet and white furniture with gold drapes. I laugh inwardly-this doesn't seem like the home of Danny Messer's 'country girl.' "Your doorman's a nice fella."

"Mr. Gerrard is like my grandfather. Now that my father is gone, he still checks up on me."

"Does he know about your mob boyfriend?" I can't resist.

She chuckles. "Let's just say Danny never came to visit me here." Her voice turns serious. "Have you found Danny yet?" she asks me with a hopeful expression.

I shake my head. "No, ma'am."

The hopeful look on her face falls sharply, and she sinks to the armchair, which is stuffed so well she damn near drowns in it. "Then why are you here?" she asks me.

I don't take offense to her tone. I think, if I was a woman in her position, I'd be pissed at me, too. "I went by Danny's apartment today. The place has been tossed. Sassone's boys were there looking for him."

She looks up again. "A-and Danny?"

"Not there, and no blood to be found. Which means he's still alive, for now," I explain. "What I did find was Danny's journal. He kept a record of everything he saw while working for Sassone."

"I can only imagine the things written in there," Lindsay says darkly.

I open the notebook to his last two entries. "You might want to read the second to last one, ma'am," I tell her. I hand the notebook over to her. She takes it and her eyes follow Danny's careful handwriting. I can tell when she gets to the part about movin' West, because her eyes start to tear up. She closes the book and sets it on her lap. She reaches for her handkerchief and dabs at her eyes. I sit awkwardly across the coffee table. I tell you, I'm just no good at this comfort thing. "I, ah, anyway...I'm still lookin'. I'll find him." With that, I rise and head for the door. I've got my hand on the knob when I feel a hand on my shoulder.

Lindsay Monroe is standing behind me. "Thank you, so much." She is clutching Danny's notebook. "For this." Before I can say anything, she throws her arms around me in a tight hug. I awkwardly return the hug. She hands me the notebook. Then, I put my hat on and close the door behind me

-.

When I get back to my office, instantly the hair on the back of my neck stands on end. Somethin' is most definitely not right. I pull my gun from my pocket and cock the hammer. I open the outer door, easin' it open and letting my gun play around the room. The lights are on, and I see Stella's coat draped over her chair. She must have been workin' late. The coffee pot is even bubblin'. However- there is no sign of Stella.

If Sassone is trying to make a point, I hate to say it but he's got my undivided attention. I don't see any signs of a struggle and I don't see blood. Both of these are good signs. _If that son of a bitch has hurt my Stella..._

Then I hear it. From inside my office. It's a small cry, just a small noise. But I know it's my Stella. So now the question becomes- _Who else is in there with her_?

"Stella?" I call out. I carefully ease my door open, taking care not to stand in front of the glass. The stuff ain't bulletproof. "Honey, you in there?"

There's a thud, and another gasp, and now I forget my manners and fling open the door. Whoever's in there is hurtin' my girl, and I ain't gonna stand idly by. "Stella?"

It's pitch black in my office. My blinds are closed and it's damn hard to see. But there's just enough light spillin' into the room from the open door. I can just make out her form against the wall. "Flack."

"Stella, doll, you all right?"

"Do me a favor and put a bullet in this jackass and I'll be just fine," Stella replies. _That's my girl_. I train my gun in that direction. She's got her arms at her sides, but I can see the glint of a gun barrel in her ribs.

"Don't move, detective. Last thing I wanna do is put a bullet in the lovely lady, but don't think for a second I won't do it anyway." The voice has a strong Bronx accent.

"Hey, no problem, pal. You're in charge." I stop moving and stand in the middle of the room.

"Drop your piece. Put it on the floor."

"Okay, okay. You got it." I slowly drop to a crouch, putting my pistol on the floor. I stand back up, nice and slow.

"Flack you're such a damn gentleman," Stella barks at me.

I look over at her with a shrug. "Sorry, doll, but your body's too damn perfect to put some holes in it. I like you the way you are." I still can't see the guy holdin' her, it's too damn dark. "How about you come on outta there and we talk like men, huh?"

"Yeah, yeah. All right." He steps forward, into the pool of light created by my open door. He's wearin' a pair of brown slacks and a white undershirt with brown suspenders and one o' them newsboys hats. He's a little grimy, and he looks like death warmed over twice, but I can't help but smile.

"Danny Messer. Nice to meet you."


	6. Chapter 6

My 'missing person' is no longer missing. Danny Messer's face looks surprised that I know who he is.

"How the hell do you know who I am?"

"Your girlfriend hired me to find you."

His face softens. "Lindsay?" For a second he forgets he's holdin' me and my secretary at gunpoint. I can tell from his voice he sounds like he's missed her. "How...uh, how she's doin'?"

"About as well as can be expected, considering the man she loves is bein' chased by Sassone." I look at him. "Any chance I can get ya to put your gun away? I don't work for Sassone, and I'd like my secretary in one piece. Nobody in this town makes coffee like she does."

Stella snorts. "My coffee, Flack?"

Danny tucks his gun into the waistband of his pants. "Yeah, yeah, sure. No problem." He looks at Stella. "Hey, sorry about all that."

He's rewarded with a slap across the face."Go to hell," Stella tells him.

"Think I mighta deserved that," Danny acknowledges, touching his cheek gingerly. She glares at him, and then turns her gaze to me. If looks could kill, I'd be wearin' cement shoes in the East River. "And you can join him there, you ass."

With that, she storms out of the office. "See you tomorrow!" I call to her.

"Ha!" The door slams. I stare at the door in confusion. I hear the outside door slam shut as well. I know I did somethin'...I just ain't quite sure what. Dames are complicated.

Danny looks at me. "I think she likes ya."

"What are you doin' here, kid?"

Danny starts pacing back and forth. "I seen you down at Sassone's today. Then I seen you goin' to Lindsay's place. I also followed you to my place." He looks at me. "I wasn't sure whose side you were on."

"Well, now that you know I'm not out to bury you, take a seat, kid," I tell him. "Let's talk about your situation."

Danny takes a seat- in my chair. I open my mouth to object, but aw, what the hell. I sit in the other chair. "So you must have some kinda death wish, kid," I tell him. "Turnin' snitch on Sonny Sassone?"

"Hey, I ain't exactly a high-class citizen," Danny says sharply, "but I do got some sense of right and wrong." He looks at me. "Have you seen the woman I'm gonna marry some day?"

I nod. "Yeah, she's a real looker."

"It's not just that," Danny says. He leans in close like he's got this big secret he wants to share with me. "I mean, hell yeah, she's a looker. But she's so much more than that, you know? She's got class. She's...she's got a fire. I mean, I dunno what the hell she was thinkin' when she met me, y'know? She could have any millionaire in the whole damn city. But she sees _me_ walkin' down Fifth Avenue..." He spreads his arms. "I still ain't figured it out."

I smirk. "Damn, son, you're turnin' _me_ on to your dame."

He raises his eyebrows. "You know, I still got the gun."

I start laughing. "You're all right, kid. So you're gonna turn in Sassone and endear yourself to your girlfriend, that's your plan. Move out west, get away from the chaos that is New York City."

He looks at me. "What, you read minds too?"

I toss him his notebook. "Somethin' like that." I prop my feet on my desk again. "You take great notes, Messer."

"You read it?"

I shoot him a look. "I had to make sure you were worth the length I'm stickin' out my neck for. Thanks to you, I got myself in Sassone's sights, too."

He seems to consider this. "Point taken. Yeah, that was the plan. I love New York City. I am a New Yorker, born and bred. And I seen what he's been doin' to this city. I seen too many of my friends from back home get mixed up in this crazy racket. And I love this city too much to watch a nightcrawler like Sassone ruin it."

I smile. "You're okay, kid. So then our plan is to get you in to protective custody so you can testify against Sassone."

"No!" Danny shoots straight up in his chair. "The damn cops? No, no way."

"So I'm right," I say. "All of Mac Taylor's boys aren't bright upstandin' citizens."

He looks at me like I'm an idiot. "Do you know how many of them frequent a Sassone-owned establishment? Think Taylor's about the only one that don't."

I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose. Damn, this complicates things a little bit. Clearly, then, police protection is _not_ the best place for Messer. Not if Sassone's got Taylor's boys on _his_ payroll. I turn him in to the cops, Sassone'll have his fingers on a chopping block inside o' half hour. "Then what we need to do is catch Sassone in the act. Something even that oily sonofabitch can't weasel his way outta." I look at him. "This is the part where you tell me somethin' big is goin' down."

Danny leans back in the chair, propping his feet up on my desk as well. I have to smile. Maybe before he gets on the train out west, I buy this kid a drink. "As it happens...Sassone's got a warehouse over on the East River. Now, I ain't exactly sure what's in there, but I can tell you it's completely illegal...and he plans on movin' it all out on the next boat."

I whistle. Damn, can this kid deliver. First the notebook, now this li'l tidbit...He's a private eye's dream! "Drugs? Guns?"

Danny shakes his head. "I dunno for sure. Maybe both. Hell, maybe he even threw in a couple cases of booze. Either way, I think that's what would do it."

I nod. "Hell yes, it would. Shipping the stuff is as illegal as drinkin' it all." I whistle again. "We'd need photos...manifests...shipment route map..."

"Most of his boats are laid out the same," Danny tells me. I look at him curiously. "Had to go on one, once. I think I delivered Enrique Salvatore his lunch one time."

I snort. "Lunch?"

He grins back at me. "Don't ask, don't tell."

"All right, all right. Hate that mobster code of ethics," I tease. "Would you happen to know when he's moving this out?"

"Tomorrow night. Like I said, I think I know my way around his boat enough to know where all the good stuff'd be at. Shouldn't be hard to get on, get a few pictures and get off in time to watch Sassone stroll on board to survey the merchandise." He spreads his hands. "Snap a few more pictures and arrest his ass."

"Sassone'll be on the boat?"

Messer nods. "He likes to check it all out before sendin' it off, the cocky sonofabitch."

"All right, then." I reach across the table, offer my hand to the kid. He eyes it. "Let's get that cocky sonofabitch."

Danny Messer grins from ear to ear as he shakes my hand with a firm grip.


	7. Chapter 7

Messer spends the night crashed on the floor of my office. I figure if they're gonna come lookin' for him, my office has already been cased, and I also think they'll wait to see what we do, then worry about killin' two birds with one stone. Sassone is cocky like that- he would be the one to let us get within spitting distance before pullin' the trigger.

As for me, I spend the night in the backseat of my car, my finger on the trigger the entire time. I wake up with a helluva headache.

Stella's already inside when I make my way in. "Mornin' Stella," I say as I enter the office.

She's starin' at a pile of paperwork I _know_ can't be all that interesting. "Aw, come on, Stel. You still sore about last night?"

"Naw, I ain't sore."

"Doll, what's wrong?" I ask her. Somethin' ain't right. She finally looks up, and I want to go crawl under a rock. Damn it, she's been cryin'. The worst part is I know _I_ had something to do with her current state.

"You know, for the smartest man I know, you're a real dope, y'know?" Stella says finally.

"I said something last night, didn't I?" I kick myself; I think I just proved her statement. Then it finally hits me as the smell of coffee invades my nostrils. "Aw, Stella. I don't just keep you around for your coffee."

"Yeah, yeah, I knew what you meant." She flicks the tears away with one manicured nail. "I think your boy is awake in there-"

"Stella." I sit on the edge of the desk and tip her face to look at mine with a finger. She's tryin' not to look at me, even though I know she wants to. "I was scared to death yesterday. When I saw you in there, with a gun to you...I've never been more scared in my entire life."

"You're just sayin'-"

"I ain't just sayin' that, now let me finish!" I take a breath. "Damn it, Stella, do you _know_ what you do to me?" I ask her. "I gotta catch my breath every time you come in a room. When you say somethin' smart, I gotta stop myself from pullin' you into my arms and goin' at it right there on my desk. You may have started off writin' appointments for me two years ago, honey, but..." I take a good look at her now. She hasn't said anything. She's just...starin' at me. "Stella, doll, I think there's a good chance I might be fallin' for you."

I stand again, and head for my office. I put my hand on the door knob.

"You're a damn softie, you know that?"

I smile as I turn around. "One of my personality flaws."

"Damn it, Donald Flack, you're impossible," she says. She stands. "But it's about damn time." She walks over to me and stands there, her arms crossed. "Do you know how long I've been _waitin'_ for that speech you just made?" She tugs my hat off my head and tosses it across the room as she wraps her arms around me and presses her lips to mine. I return the gesture, picking her up and walking her across the room, sitting her down on my desk as I kiss her back. Damn, but I've been waiting for this moment. She smells amazing. She tastes even better. We spend a full five minutes in that position before I finally have to come up for a breath of air. She looks at me with a pouty smile.

"We'll continue this discussion later," I promise her.

"I'm holdin' you to that," she tells me. She goes back to sit behind her desk again. "Coffee's on, and like I said, I think your boy is awake. I heard him pacing when I came in this mornin'."

I only nod. I think she's forgiven me. I open my door, and sure enough, Danny Messer is awake. He's used my bathroom and I also think my razor, because he's lookin' a little smoother than he did. "Heya, Flack," he greets me. He's got this little half-grin thing on his face. I have to keep from rollin' my eyes. Think there's a good chance he caught my "conversation" with Stella out there. "Mornin'," I reply cautiously, waiting for his response.

He looks around. "I, ah, sorry I kicked ya out of your office."

Smart man, not sayin' anything. Otherwise I might have to kill him before his girlfriend gets to see him again. I wave it away. "Don' worry about it."

"So..." Danny opens his mouth, then closes it again. "Never mind."

"What?" I ask him. But I can see it in his eyes. I know what he wants before he even says anything.

"Do...is there any way I could see Lindsay today? Or just talk to her. God, I feel like I ain't seen her in years."

I smack myself mentally in the head. I completely forgot to call my 'client' and tell her that I sorta did my job. "Matter of fact," I say, "I think we can arrange that." I open the door a tinge. "Stella, darlin' you mind getting' Lindsay Monroe for me?"

"Replaced me so soon?" she teases as she reaches for the telephone.

I roll my eyes as I close my door again. And she thinks _I'm_ impossible.

It's at least a half hour before Monroe shows up, and I spend the entire time laughing at Messer. He's been pacing my office, running his fingers through his hair. "What are you so worried about?" I can't resist asking him.

"I-I don't know," he tell me honestly. "I spent all of yesterday and a little before wonderin' if I'd ever see her again, y'know? I mean, God, I disappeared on her for a whole day. I bet she was goin' crazy."

"She was," I tell him. I think it's funny. If a _day_ is the longest these two have ever spent apart, and they act like this...but then again, there usually isn't the threat of imminent death hangin' over them.

He looks at me, shakes his head and starts pacing again. I burst out laughing. "Messer, take it easy before you wear a hole into the office downstairs."

Then we can hear a knock on the outer door. "Miss Monroe," I hear Stella say. Danny's head snaps up and he looks over at me in panic. I have to bite my tongue. "He's in his office. Go on in."

Her silhouette stops in front of my door before she opens the door. "Flack?"

"Yeah, Miss Monroe, I'm in here." She steps into my office. "Your secretary said you had some news for me?"

I prop my feet up on my desk. "Matter of fact, I do. I found your boyfriend."

Her eyes light up. "You found my Danny? Where is he? Is he all right?"

Danny steps into the center of the room. "Yeah, baby. I'm all right."

She whirls around, and her eyes widen. Her jaw drops to my floor. Tears start fallin'. In about two strides, Messer crosses the room and the two have their arms wrapped around each other. He holds her face in his hands and they just look at each other for a few moments before he's kissin' her again.

I suddenly feel very Peepin' Tom-like.

"God, I thought I'd never see you again," Danny is telling Lindsay.

"I was so scared for you," she replies. "When you didn't show up for dinner..."

"Sassone's boys tossed my place, I had to get outta there fast," he explains. "I'm sorry I stood you up, darlin'. I'm gonna make it up to you when this is all over, baby girl. I promise."

"Just havin' you here right now is enough," she tells him before she buries her head in his shoulder.

Aw, hell. Now I feel _really_ awkward.

I stand. "I'm gonna give the two of you some time alone," I say. They don't hear me. Probably better that way. I close the door behind me. Stella looks up with a knowin' smile.

"Happy reunion?" she asks me.

"Yeah," I say. "Happy reunion. I'm gonna run down to the precinct. I need to talk to some people. Don't let those two leave. If you gotta, order Chinese or pizza from Ray's. They don't leave that office."

Stella smirks. "Don't think you'll need to worry about that, hon."


	8. Chapter 8

The 6th Precinct is packed when I make my way inside later that mornin'. I look around before I spot Officer Ross. He looks up at grins at me. I cock a finger and motion him over. "What say ya, Flack?" he asks me.

"Later, kid. C'mon, I need your help for somethin'."

His eyes light up like a sign in Times Square. He kinda reminds me of a puppy. I chuckle as I shake my head. "Let's go." I head for Mac Taylor's office. This time, I got just enough courtesy to knock.

"Yeah?" a surly voice barks back. I look at Ross. He shrugs. "'Nother bad day," he says.

"Ah." I open the door. "Taylor."

He looks up. "Flack. What do you have for me?" He sees Ross standin' behind me. "Ross. Shouldn't you be finishin' up paperwork?"

"I asked him to come in here with me, sir," I say, tossin' that 'sir' in there again. "Sir. I found Danny Messer."

"You did? Where is he now?"

"He's still all in one piece, and I'd like to keep it that way," I tell Taylor. "Messer tells me some of your boys aren't keepin' their noses clean. I think it's best if only the three of us in this office know about what I'm about to say. You're the only guys in the uniform that I trust right now."

Taylor considers it. Deep down, I think, he knows that what Messer said is true. "What have you got, Flack?" he asks finally.

I nod. "All right. Messer tells me Sassone's gonna move a shipment of somethin' big tonight. It's goin' by boat. This is our time to catch him in the act. There's no way he'll be able to weasel out of a conviction this time."

"How does Messer know that Sassone'll even be there?" Taylor asks.

"Sir, if this is as big as Messer says, he'll be there. He can't resist makin' a scene." I look at him. "All it would take is a warrant."

As it happens, most of the city's lawyers are on Sassone's payroll. But there's one that ain't. And he's a close personal acquaintance of Mac Taylor. Or rather- his secretary is. "Can you put in a call?"

Taylor nods and picks up his phone. "Yeah, Sidney Hammerback's office, please." He waits to be connected. "Ms. Driscoll. A pleasure to speak with you again. Last time we spoke I believe it was-yes, it _was_ the Policeman's Ball." His face is turning red, and Ross and I both exchange a glance. "Is Hammerback available?" He waits for the response. It's a long time comin', so I know somethin's up.

"I see. What time was his reservation? We're sort of pressed for time..." He waits again. I want to know where the hell Hammerback is.

"All right. Thank you. Yes, yes, I'd like that." He hangs up and looks at me and Ross.

And I can't resist. "What would you like, Taylor? Who's this Driscoll dame?"

"None of your damn business, Flack, keep it up and I forget the whole thing," Taylor shoots back. "Attorney Hammerback is out to lunch right now. She thinks he is supposed to be back in his office in about an hour."

I shake my head. "We don't have that kind of time." I put my hat on and head for the door.

"Flack?" Ross calls after me.

"I'm goin' to talk to Hammerback." I look at Taylor. "Where's lunch today?"

"Flack, don't screw this up."

I grin. "Everything by the book," I reply. "Now where's he eatin'?"

I can see Hammerback through the window of Bertolli's. It's probably the nicest place in my city. The clientele is mostly upper-class.

I'm gonna fit right in.

Just like at Monroe's there's a doorman outside takin' reservations. Aw hell, here we go again. I step up to the door. "I'm looking for Attorney Hammerback," I tell the guy. He's got a shaved head, somethin' you don't see very often. "I'm meeting him for lunch."

He looks me over. I hate it when they do that. "I'm working with Attorney Hammerback on a case for his office."

He's still eyeballin' me. I shrug. "Fine. Have it your way." With that, I push past him into the restaurant.

"Hey!" He comes after me. I thread my way quickly through the tables, finally spotting Hammerback in a booth in the back. He's got these glasses that make him hard to miss. It's not a style I've ever seen before. I stop in front of his table. "Attorney Hammerback, my name is Don Flack. I'm working with Mac Taylor on a case regarding Sonny Sassone-"

Two guys in tails grab my arm. The doorman comes rushing over. "Mr. Hammerback, I apologize for this interruption. We'll get him out of here-"

"I can take down Sassone for good!" I say as they start draggin' me backwards.

"Dobson." The voice comes from Hammerback. "It's all right, Dobson. This fellow was meeting me for lunch to discuss the case."

"Sir?" Dobson sounds very confused.

Hammerback opens his wallet, hands Dobson a handful of bills. "Thank you, Dobson, that will be all."

Dobson pockets the money smoothly and looks over at the two guys holdin' onto my arms. "Let him go, gentlemen." I shrug myself out of their grips and straighten my hat and jacket. I enjoy glaring at Dobson as he goes back to his post.

"Mr. Flack. Take a seat." Hammerback wipes his mouth with a napkin and gestures to the bench across from him. I oblige him. "Now what can I do for you?"

I give him the detailed story of Danny Messer from when Lindsay Monroe walked into my office until I left Mac Taylor's a little bit ago. "Messer's given us everything we need to take down Sassone," I say. "All we need is a warrant to make everything legal, because I'll be damned if I let him get off on a technicality."

Hammerback sits quietly for a few moments. "You realize what you'd need to make any charges stick against Sassone, correct?"

"Yes, sir. We need to place him at the scene, I'll need shipping manifests, the shipment route maps. I plan on takin' my camera. We'll nail him, sir. Just give us this piece of paper to make it all official."

"Flack, you should know that I have to get it signed by a judge. It's very difficult to find a judge in this town that isn't on Sassone's payroll."

"I know, sir, and I've been thinkin' about that. What do you know about Judge Caine?"

He thinks about it. "Caine's a good man. He won't be intimidated."

I look at Hammerback. "And you, sir?"

His eyes flare and he looks at me. "What exactly are you implying?"

"Sir, I need to know that if Taylor, Ross and I are gonna take down Sassone, it won't be all for nothin'." I hate accusin' him of bein' afraid, but I want Sassone. I need an attorney brave enough to prosecute.

"Sir, I have two daughters and a wife," Hammerback begins. "My wife, she wasn't too sure when I proposed. She knew someday I might take my job home with me." He looks at me. "But she knew what she was getting in to. And so did I when I became an attorney. I promise you that if you get me the case, I'll put him away."

He offers me his hand. I shake it, holdin' him to that. "Thank you, sir," I say. I stand. "I'll get you your case."

"Just don't screw anything up. I can't convict if you screw up."

"I'll do my job, Hammerback, if you do yours." With that, I stand and excuse myself. I'm halfway across the room when someone calls my name. I turn around to see the piano player from Sassone's-Hawkes, if I remember right- standing behind me in a Bertolli's waiter outfit. It doesn't surprise me he's workin' more than one job. "Can I help you?" I ask him, instantly wary. Hey, it's possible he might be a plant.

"I just thought you should know that there's a couple of Sassone's boys a few tables over," Hawkes confides in me. His eyes flicker to his right, and out of the corner of my eye, I catch at least one of the guys from yesterday eyeballin' me. "They followed you in," he advises me.

"I appreciate the heads up, Hawkes," I tell him. "I'll keep an eye out." He nods at me before disappearing among the tables again. Tell you the truth, it don't surprise me that I have tails. I'm somewhat happy about that, it means we're too close and Sassone is gettin' nervous.

I walk past Dobson at the door. "See ya around, Dobson," I tell him as I head back for my office. Things are falling in to place.

Wish I had a beer to celebrate.


	9. Chapter 9

I run down by the precinct again and fill in Taylor and Ross on the day's events. I tell them to meet me at my office around nine. Then I stop by the little Chinese dive on the corner, grab some food to go, and return to my office. I can hear laughter from my office as I step in the door.

"Hey," Stella greets me. "Your client here is a real cutup."

"Glad he's keepin' you all entertained. I brought dinner." I hand out the Chinese. I notice that my Fifth Avenue girl digs right in with no qualms at all. Lindsay catches me lookin'. "What's the matter? Never seen a girl eat Chinese before?"

She and Messer are made for each other. I shake my head and smile. "You just strike me as more the steak and wine kinda girl," I confess.

Danny grins. "Not my girl," he says as he throws an arm around her. He looks up at me. "So what'd you find out today?"

"I got us a warrant from Attorney Hammerback. Everythin' is legal, so we're ready to go. Taylor and Ross are comin' here around nine. We'll head to the docks from there. Oh, and one more thing." I shrug as I take a bite of my noodles. "I have a tail. They probably followed me here."

Danny about drops his chopsticks. "You _what_?" he demands. I notice Lindsay Monroe is lookin' at me in alarm. "And you led 'em here?"

"They ain't gonna try anythin'," I reply. "They're lower level thugs. They're just here to watch. All the same, Messer, I think you should stay here."

He looks at me. I knew this was gonna happen. "Yeah, right. I don' think so."

"Someone needs to stay here and keep an eye on the ladies," I tell him.

"Then it's gonna be you," Danny says, "'cause I ain't lettin' you take down Sassone by yourself."

"And you'd leave 'em here?" I ask, pointing a chopstick at Stella, then at his Lindsay.

Before he can say anything, Stella shoots me a look. "Give me your gun, Flack," she says.

I raise my eyebrows. "Excuse me? Do what?"

"Give..me..your damned gun," she says again. Thoroughly curious, I hand over my piece. Stella looks down the barrel, pops out the chamber, spins it, shoves it back in, cocks the gun...and aims it at me.

I'm now starin' down the barrel of my own gun. Damn it, did I mention I think I love that woman? "I get your point," I say. "All right, Messer, you're with me." I look at Stella. "But I don't feel right 'bout this at all."

Stella hands me back the gun. "I learned from the best," she replies simply. "Besides, they'll be after you and Danny, you all are the bigger threat." She takes a bite of her food and smiles at me. I return the smile, but halfheartedly. There's a nagging feelin' in the back of my head, but I ignore it. I get it before every bust...it's just that this one happens to be buggin' me more than usual...

Nine o'clock rolls around, and there's a knock on my outside door. Taylor and Ross are standin' there, both out of uniform. "Evenin' boys," I say as I step aside so they can come in. Taylor acknowledges me with a nod, and I get a "Heya, Flack!" from Ross.

"Hey, son, you ready for tonight? This ain't gonna be no cakewalk."

He nods. "Oh, I'm completely terrified right now, won't lie to ya," he replies. "But I'll do ya proud."

I ruffle his hair. "I ain't worried, kid." I lead the two into my office. "Chief Taylor, Officer Ross, I would like to introduce you to my secretary, Stella Bonasera."

Taylor nods in her direction. I can tell he's checkin' her out, so it makes my day when Stella comes walkin' up, offers him a hand, and then comes to stand by me and puts her hand on my shoulder. "Nice to meet you, Chief," she says. She pats my shoulder.

Taylor gets the message loud and clear.

"Chief, this here is Lindsay Monroe," I move on, nodding to Lindsay. She comes over and he shakes her hand.

"Ma'am, nice to meet you," Taylor says.

"Likewise," she replies.

Then I turn to Danny. "And now I'd like to introduce ya to the boy that's gonna make your day. Chief Taylor, this is Danny Messer."

Messer hangs back a little bit. "How ya doin'?" he says.

He and Taylor stare at each other for a few moments. Then Taylor says, "So you're the man of the hour."

"Guess so," Danny shrugs.

"And you think you can help us bring down the biggest crime boss in New York," Taylor says.

He nods. "Ain't nobody better to bring down a gangster than another gangster." He shrugs. "No offense."

There's a long awkward silence. "If you two are finished havin' the who's horse is bigger contest," I break in, "I'd like to discuss what's goin' down tonight."


	10. Chapter 10

From my place, it's about a three block walk to the docks. Messer and I are goin' to check out the boat. Taylor and Ross are going to take care of the fellas outside. We tell them we've got a warrant. If they take off, then we got every right to arrest 'em. Far as we're concerned, they run, they guilty. I gotta admit, I'm a little worried about Ross. The kid's so green he'll bend, not break. But I trust him to keep his head.

We stop just outside the entrance to the East River docks. "This is where we go our separate ways, fellas," I say. I look at the two NYPD officers. "You boys take care of yourselves, all right?"

"You too," Taylor tells me. He shakes my hand before we go. Then he and Ross go one way, and Messer and I take the other. We wait behind a pile of fishing nets and watch as Taylor approaches the two guys on guard. I recognize one of them from the Blackjack.

"NYPD," Taylor announces. "We've got a warrant."

"Yeah?" the one asks. He pulls a gun. "Let's see it.

Then Ross steps up next to him, gun to the thug's temple. "Drop the gun and we'll show it to you," he suggests. I grin- the kid's got potential.

"All right, Messer. That's our cue. Let's go on a cruise, shall we?" I walk by Taylor, nodding to him. "Nice bust, Chief."

"Good luck, Flack," he says.

Messer and I go up the ladder and onto the boat. It's a small little thing, but big enough so searchin' will take a while. "Cargo hold?" I ask.

Messer beckons. "Down here." He throws up a hatch. As we start walkin' through the belly of the ship, the hair on the back of my neck stands on end again. It has just occurs to me that one, it's too quiet, and two, this so far as been way too easy. I relay my suspicion to Messer. "I agree with ya," he says. "I think..."

The door to the cargo hold opens and out steps one of Sassone's thugs. I recognize him as Dobson from the restaurant. Aw, hell. I shoulda known. He pocketed that money like a true mobster. "...we've been made," Messer finishes his sentence unnecessarily.

"Nice try, PI," Dobson says. "Put your hands where I can see 'em."

I raise my hands, and out of the corner of my eye, I see Messer do the same. And then I see Messer throw himself forward at Dobson. Dobson fires, but the shot goes low. Messer tackles Dobson to the floor. "Messer!" I yell.

"Get the hell outta here, go get Sassone!" Messer yells as he works to throw off Dobson.

I don't argue with him. I step past them and into the cargo hold. And Lord Almighty, I have hit the jackpot. I'm standing amid ten or twelve crates of everything illegal. I pull out my camera and pop the lid off one of the boxes. This one happens to be full of illegal booze. It reminds me of how long it's been since I've had a drink again. Wonder if they'd notice a couple bottles missin'. I snap a few pictures and move on to the next crate.

A hand touches my shoulder. I whip around, gun aimed. Messer is standing behind me. "Hell, Mes, you all right?" I ask him. He's got a few cuts and bruises, and a shiner that'll look real nice by mornin'.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm good. You should see the other guy," he replies. He whistles as he looks around. "Hell yes."

"Pop the top off that one," I say. He pries another crate open. "This one's full of guns. Damn, he does have his hands in everything," Danny says.

"He won't for very long," I say. My camera flashes again and again. "All right, I think we're good down here. Let's go grab a shipping manifest and the route maps."

Then I hear it. Rapid-fire gunshots. "Oh, hell," I say, my mind instantly goin' to Ross and Taylor. "Come on, Messer, we gotta go." I step over Dobson- Messer was right, he _does_ look bad- and head up the ladder to the main deck. I hand him my camera. "Messer, get to the cabin."

He looks at the camera in his hands, and then at me. "I-"

"Damn it, _go_."

He doesn't argue with me. He takes off. I hit the side of the boat and look down the docks. I don't see Taylor or Ross anywhere. Aw hell, this can't be good.

I jump off the boat. "Ross? Kid, where the hell are you?" I keep my gun in front of me, and my eyes continually look from side to side. "Taylor?"

"Flack."

I turn. That's Taylor's voice. He steps off of someone else's boat. He's bleeding in a few spots. And he's been shot in the shoulder. "You okay?"

"I'm good," he says in a quiet tone.

I look at him. "What?"

He nods his head for me to follow him. _Please don't let this be about the kid._ I follow him down the dock a little way...and freeze. "No."

Adam Ross is lyin' on the dock. Blood is seepin' out from underneath him. "Aw, no." _No!_ I get on my knees beside him. "Ross?"

His eyes are open, but he's barely there. "W-what say ya, F-Flack?" he stammers. I can see the problem, he took one to the stomach. He ain't got long. "I-I'm sorry."

"What the hell happened, Taylor?" I demand. Yes, I am implying it's _Taylor's_ fault for not lookin' out for him.

"I don't know, Flack!" Taylor seems shocked by my tone. "The shot came out of nowhere!"

I want to chew his ass. I want to hit him. But then I hear Ross.

"I-I'm sorry," he's sayin' again.

"For what, kid?" I ask. I look up at Taylor, who looks as helpless as I feel. The kid idolized me...and now he's bleedin' on the docks. "You kicked ass tonight. You're gonna be just fine. You're gonna be able to tell all the grandkids some day about how you were there when Sonny Sassone went down." I'm fightin' back tears. I grab Ross's hand.

"D-did I m-make y-you pr-proud?" he asks me. _What's the matter with this kid, wantin'_ my _opinion? Shoulda picked someone else to idolize, kid...not me...not me..._

"Yeah, you did, kid. You made me proud."

His face turns upward in a smile. Then just as quickly, it fades, and his hand goes limp in mine.

I gently lay his hand across his chest. And I look up at Taylor. "That's it. Screw Sassone rottin' in prison. I want the sonofabitch's head on a damn platter." I stand. "Come on, we gotta get back on the boat." I can't stand leavin' Ross lyin' there like that, but I got no place to put him now. I stand and start walkin' for the boat.

"Flack."

I stop, but don't turn around. "Spare me the damned lecture, Taylor," I say.

"I ain't gonna lecture you."

I turn around, slowly, to look at him. He's crouched next to Ross's lifeless body.

"I'll get him out of here," he says, taking one of Ross's hands. "Go get your evidence. Go take the sonofabitch out." He looks down at the kid. "Do it for him."

I look at Adam Ross. "I'll do that." Oh, believe me. I'll do it all right. He may not come back one piece, however.

"And Flack?"

"What do you want, Taylor?" I demand without turning around.

"Do it right."

I get back on the boat. "Messer?" I yell as I make my way to the wheelhouse.

He sticks his head out the wheelhouse window. "Yeah?"

"Move your ass. Let's go." I'm bein' short with him, but I don't care too much at this point.

"Yeah, all right, I gotta find the damn manifest!" I wait a few minutes, and then I hear, "Got it!" Danny comes out of the wheelhouse and starts down the stairs.

"Danny Messer!"

My blood runs cold. I freeze.

"Don Flack!"

On the stairs, I can see Danny stop cold as well. Both of us know that voice.

I look down. Sonny Sassone is strollin' up the docks. He's wearin' a black suit and tie with a black hat. And he's walkin' up the docks like he owns the place.

"Come on, boys, I know you're here!"

I step over to the edge of the boat. "Hey, Sassone!" I call out. "What's shakin'?"

"Nothin' really. You boys come to see off my shipment?"

"'Fraid not, Sonny. This baby's gonna stay docked!" Danny yells from the stairs.

"Really. And why would it do that?" Sassone asks me.

I hold up the warrant. Taylor gave it to me before I got back on board. "'Cause this time I got ya red handed," I reply. "This is your stuff. I got a couple of your boys Taylor can sweat down at the precinct. They'll give you up. And, oh yeah, I can at least get you on murder." I point up to Danny Messer. "My boy here heard you talkin' about offin' Enrique Salvatore." Danny offers a wave. "Your time's up Sassone. This deathgrip you've got the city in is gonna ease up."

Sassone holds his hands up in the air. "Well, Flack, it looks like ya got me. Looks like my time is up. I mean, you've pretty much got everythin' wrapped up." Then he snaps his fingers. And he starts laughing. "Ah, but wait. I still got a few more tricks up my sleeves. Mala! Pratt!"

His two boys show their faces. Mala's an ugly fella with long dark hair. Pratt's younger, smokin' a cigar. Both of them are holdin' guns in one hand. The other hands are-

"Lindsay!" Danny yells. He comes flyin' off the stairs until he skids to a stop next to me. Sure enough, Pratt's got a firm grip on the arm of one Lindsay Monroe. She looks completely terrified. "Danny!" she cries out when she sees him. Danny looks like he's gonna vault the side of the boat. I grab his arm. "Easy, Messer."

"The hell with easy," he snarls. "Let me go!"

"No, damn it. Stay put, don't you move!"

He's listening to me, but I can tell it's killin' him.

Then Mala steps onto the boat across from us and gets a grip on something on the floor of the boat. He pulls it up and now _I'm_ the one having to keep from vaulting the side.

Stella looks pissed at Mala. "Stel?" I call out, having to resist the urge to put two in Sassone right there. "Doll, you all right?"

"Are you actually gonna shoot someone this time, Flack?" she yells back. "Or are you gonna go all noble like ya did with Messer?"

"Drop your gun," Sassone suggests. From behind me, I hear the click of metal and something pressed into the back of my skull.

"I didn't hit you hard enough, Dobson," I hear Messer growl next to me.

I don't have a choice. I drop my gun to the deck.

"Flack, you ass," I hear Stella groan from the dock.


	11. Chapter 11

Messer and I are forced off Sassone's boat, and onto another little one. On the boat, we get pushed into one of the cabins. I can hear both the girls yellin' and screamin' at Sassone and his boys. My pop would kick my ass from here to Chicago for what I did tonight. I _knew_ somethin' didn't feel right. Pop always told me never to ignore my gut. I screwed up tonight. I let revenge on Sassone cloud my judgment. It's _not_ a feelin' I like.

 _Damn it, Pop, I'm sorry_. Dobson enjoys tying my hands, tethering me to Messer.

"You wait, Dobson," I can hear Messer sayin' behind me. "You're done. You're done real soon-" I can hear knuckles hit skin, and I go flyin' onto my side as the force from Dobson's punch to Messer knocks us both sideways. Messer's head slams into the cabinet next to me. "Messer?" I ask, jostling my arm a little bit. I don't get a response. I look up at Sassone, who's standin' above us. "What's the plan, Sassone?"

His response is to hold up his cigar and blow the smoke down into my face again. I hold my breath and stare him down. "Unfortunate fire," he shrugs. "Accident."

"I'm sure. And the ladies?" I demand.

"Goin' for a ride down to Miami. I got a coupla friends down there who know how to have a good time with dames. And I imagine that Mala, Pratt and Dobson will keep 'em company on the way down."

"You sonofa-" I get cut off as Dobson's fist slams into my stomach. I double over as much as I can with Messer's dead weight behind me, scrambling for air.

Sassone starts laughing. "Still fightin', Flack?" he says. "Even the little rookie cop didn't put up this much of a fight. Took that bullet like a man."

 _Ross..._ "I'll put a bullet in you yet, Sassone," I swear.

"Yeah?" Sassone slams down the hatch. "We'll see," I hear him mutter through the closed hatch. I hear somethin' bein' dragged across the deck. It stops right above the hatch. "Messer." I shake my arm again. "Wake up, damn you."

Then I smell it. Gasoline. I can hear it hitting the deck above us. Hell. This isn't good. "Messer! Wake your ass up right now!" I throw my arm around as hard as the ropes'll let me. I need him up so we can figure a way out of here.

And then I smell burning wood. I ain't one to take the Lord's name in vain-much- but this is a special occasion, "Goddamn it, Messer, if you don't wake up right now so help me God if I get loose I'll leave you here!"

I hear him groan. "Flack?" he asks groggily from behind me. "What the hell happened?"

"Your head got into an argument with that cabinet over there. 'Fraid the cabinet won."

"Where's Lindsay?"

"She'll be halfway to Miami if we can't get outta here," I reply.

He blinks, a worried expression crossing his face. "What?"

"We really don' have time for this," I snip at him. "Unless you wanna end up extra crispy, we need to get out of here. Right now." I look around. It's startin' to get a little warm. "Don' suppose you carry a knife?"

"Sorry. Left it in my jacket."

I roll my eyes, knowing he can't see me. "Okay, then we go to plan B. We need something sharp."

"How about the porthole?" Messer suggests. "Here, come on. Stand." We struggle to our feet. Smoke is starting to seep in under the hatch. My vision's startin' to get foggy. Messer makes his way over to the window. "Can you lift your arm?" he asks me.

"Currently, it's _our_ arm, and yeah," I say, proving it. "You gonna try to smash it?"

"That's the plan," Messer says. "On the count 'o three. One..."

"Two..." I join in, tensing.

"Three!" Messer slams his elbow into the porthole. It doesn't budge. "Aw hell, let's go again! One...two...Jesus!" He jumps back, pulling me with him.

A face has just appeared in the window. Mac Taylor is looking in at us. "Mac!" I yell, before I get overtaken by a coughing fit. Taylor disappears from the window. I can hear him make his way over to the hatch. I can hear some bangs and whatnot, and then he comes back over. "Flack!" I hear him yell through the glass. "Back up and get down!"

I shrink to the floor, pulling Messer down with me. We hug the wall as Taylor fires two shots into the glass, shattering it. "Here!" he yells, tossing in a fish knife. I snag it and saw away at the ropes around my wrists. One arm finally snaps free, and I cut our other hands loose. "Come on, Messer, we gotta get out of here!" I yell. I shove him towards the porthole. It's just big enough for a person to crawl through. Messer knocks the rest of the glass away. The smoke is thick now, and beads of sweat are forming on my forehead. Messer wiggles through the porthole with some help from Mac Taylor and jumps off the boat.

"Come on, Flack, let's go!" Taylor yells at me. I shove one arm through, and he grabs on to my hand. He starts pulling and I start squeezing my way through. I'm having a harder time of it than Messer.

"Flack, think you might wanna lose some weight," I hear Messer call.

"Shut up!" I yell back. "Mac, just pull like hell," I tell him. "Count of three."

"Screw three." Mac yanks on my arm, I weasel my way through, and finally collapse on the deck. "Fire's close to the fuel tanks, let's go," Taylor suggests. He helps me onto the dock, and Messer and I collapse onto the planks as the boat behind us goes up in flames. I put my arms up and cover my head.

I look up as pieces of the boat rain down around us. "Taylor, Sassone...he shot Adam," I say.

Taylor's eyes cloud over. "They haven't left port yet. Come on, let's go." He helps me to my feet, ducking as pieces of boat fall close to our heads. I help Messer up, and finally able to run, we take off for Sassone's boat. It's startin' to pull away from the dock. "Aw hell, time to go swimmin'!" I groan as I throw my jacket off.

"Gonna get wet!" Messer agrees as he jumps off the dock. I hold my breath and dive in after him.


	12. Chapter 12

I feel like I'll never get to the boat. It's pullin' away faster than I can swim. Messer is a little ahead of me. He reaches for the ladder, misses the first time, but catches it the second. He throws an elbow over one rung. "Flack! Hey, c'mon, man, hurry!" He holds out a hand to me.

Aw, hell, I hate water. I pick up the pace. _I gotta quit smokin'_. Just when I think I'll never make it, Messer's hand grasps mine and pulls me forward onto the ladder. "You okay?" he asks me.

"I'm a little wet," I reply, catchin' my breath. "Let's go." Messer starts up the ladder, stopping just below the main deck. He pokes a head up. "All clear." He slides over the side, and I follow. It's not a graceful landin', I flop to the deck like a trout. Messer helps me up. "Come on, old man."

"I'll throw you back over," I threaten as I follow. "Go find the girls, I'm gonna go get Sassone."

"You sure you don't want backup?" Messer asks.

I nod. "I'll be okay. Go get the girl."

Messer nods. "Yeah, all right." He looks around, tryin' to decide where to start. Meanwhile, I look up at the pilothouse. I know that's where Sassone is at. Lord of his castle. It occurs to me belatedly that my gun was in my coat, and that's all the way back at the docks. Stel would kill me if she only knew...

I make my way across the deck, trying to stay down and keep hidden as best I can.

"How in the hell..." I hear a familiar voice behind me. It belongs to Sassone's boy Mala. I stand and turn around. Mala's got a gun pointed at me. "How did you get outta there?" he demands.

"Fire escape," I reply lamely. "You gonna put that down?"

"I oughta shoot ya where ya stand," Mala says.

I shrug. "True, but-" I lunge forward, catching him off guard, knocking the gun from his hand. It scatters across the deck. I bend his arm back and then bend it behind him. Then with one quick shove, I toss him over the side. I hear a splash. I look around to see if anyone heard the fight, but I don't see anyone. I wonder if Messer's found the girls yet. I hate to think what Pratt and Mala had time to do with them, and I send up a fast prayer to whoever that they're okay. As an afterthought, I toss up one for me and Messer, and Adam Ross.

The image of Ross's cold face enters my thoughts, and a renewed hatred of Sassone fills me. I know Taylor said do it right, but I can't promise anything at this point. Ross was just a kid. And Sassone shot him in cold blood, for no other reason I can tell than to piss me off.

I hear yellin' and shoutin' from the back of the boat. It's muffled, but I can tell there's a fight goin' down. I see two people come out of the pilothouse. Dobson is one. The other is Pratt. They take off for the cargo hold. Assuming Sassone can't skipper a boat, that leaves two for me.

And I can handle that. I go to pick up Mala's gun, and then I head over to the stairs and start climbing them. I can hear Sassone inside. My blood boils at the sound of his voice. I kick open the door.

Sassone and a guy I don't recognize jump and look back. Sassone looks surprised to see me. I relish the thought. "Oh, sorry," I say. "Shoulda knocked first." I grin at Sassone. "What's the matter, Sonny? Look like you've seen a ghost."

"I don't care how you got off that boat, Flack," Sassone growls. "But I guarantee you're not getting' off this one."

"Big talk, Sassone, considerin' your boys are at the other end of this tug and you're the only one here."

He goes to object, then realizes that his wheelman has taken off and is nowhere to be found. I level Mala's gun at him. "This is gonna end here tonight. For Messer and Monroe, for Ross...and for my father."

"Flack!" Sassone snaps his fingers as if he's remembered something. " _That_ 's why your name sounded so familiar. Your Donald Flack's kid." He shakes his head. "Hell, that man chased me around New York for _years_. Even before Prohibition. He could tell I was a bad egg from the start, Don Flack." He puts one hand on the wheel, easily guiding the boat. "I remember the night he came down to the docks. When I saw him, I wanted to shoot the two idiots who'd mucked it up. I mean, braggin' about my business in public, what kinda employee is that?" He shakes his head.

Part of me wants to shoot him. But part of me can't help but listen.

"He confronted me. Threatened to turn my ass in. I let him have his two minutes," Sassone says. "An' then I put two holes in him and tossed him in the East River." He turns around and looks at me. "And that's exactly what I'm gonna do to you." Without warning, he throws the wheel of the boat into a fast spin, sending the boat into a sharp turn, throwing me off my feet. I manage to stand back up, run forward, and put the boat into an all stop. Beneath me, there's a shudder as the engines stop. Then I turn. Sassone, the coward he is, has taken off for the main deck. Cursing under my breath, I grab Mala's gun again and dart out of the pilothouse.

"Hey, you sonofabitch, where do you think you're goin'?" That voice belongs to Danny Messer and I see him throw a punch that knocks Sassone backwards. Behind him, Stella and Lindsay are there, holdin' on to each other. I'm happy they both look like they're in one piece.

Messer is all over Sassone now, kicking and punching. I can see the fury in his eyes. As much as I would like to see him go down like that, I step forward and pull Messer backwards. "Hey, take it easy," I tell him. I haul Sassone up by the collar. His nose is bleeding and he'll have a matching black eye like Messer. "A beatin' like that is too good for him. No, he's gonna rot in jail." I toss him back to the deck. "Messer, can you get this boat turned around?"

"Flack!" Stella screams. Fire and pain rip through my chest. I hear two shots, but they're just vague echoes. My vision is starting to swim. I can make out Stella's face in front of mine. I think I'm on my back, but I'm not sure how I got there. My last thought is _I'm sorry Pop, I think I screwed up again_...


	13. Chapter 13

"Flack?"

 _My head is killin' me_. I vaguely recognize the voice, but my head hurts too much to open my eyes. I'm slowly comin' around. My chest is killin' me.

"Flack?"

I open one eye, slowly. Then the other. It's completely white.

 _Aw hell. I died...but I was good enough to make it to heaven._ I see bright lights. And then the face of an angel appears in front of me. Long hair, serious green eyes. I smile. _God's got great taste._ The angel reaches out for my hand.

"Flack?"

And then I realize that I'm not dead because I can feel her touch on my hand. Everything hurts like hell, but I ain't dead. The rest of the room comes into focus. I'm in a hospital. Stella Bonasera is sittin' next to my bed. "Oh, my God," Stella says. She kisses my forehead and brushes my hair back. "Welcome back to the world," she tells me. "Thought we'd lost you."

"What h-happened to Sassone?" I ask. I don't remember anything. Well, I remember her screamin' and hearin' a couple of shots, but nothin' after that.

"He shot you in the back. Danny shot him with Pratt's gun," Stella explained. "I'm sorry. I know how much you wanted to do it yourself."

I close my eyes. So it's over, then. "He's dead?"

She smiles. "No. Messer hit him in the leg. He's alive." She squeezes my hand. "He's gonna stand trial when he's recovered. Right now he's down the hall under the watchful eyes of Mac Taylor."

 _We got him, Pop. We got him for you_. "Thank God," I say. I look at her. "And you're all right? Pratt and Dobson...they didn't-"

"They tried," Stella said. "Right before Danny burst in the door. Pratt's gonna think twice." She reaches down and tugs off her shoe. "These babies are a pain in the ass to walk in, but there's a few places they'll hurt worse."

I smile. "That's my girl."

"Hey, buddy," a new voice says. I look up to see Danny Messer, dressed now in a pair of black slacks and a white button-down shirt that's open at the collar. On his arm is Lindsay Monroe. She's dressed in a black dress.

"Hey yourself," I say. "You clean up nice."

He grins. "And you look like hell." His Lindsay smacks him in the arm and he looks at her. "What?"

"I guess I have you to thank for savin' my ass last night," I tell him. I hold out a hand. "Thanks."

He shakes it. "No problem. I'm just glad I got a piece of that sonofabitch myself."

"So now what happens?" I ask him.

He holds up two pieces of paper. "Train leaves in a couple hours. We just wanted to stop by and say thank you."

"Headin' west?" I ask.

He nods. "I hear Montana country is nice." He puts an arm around Lindsay's waist.

There's a knock on the door. I look to Danny's left and see Mac Taylor standing there. He's sportin' a few cuts and cruises, but otherwise, it's the same Mac Taylor. "Hey, Taylor," I say.

"Hey yourself. You're lookin' a lot better."

"Feelin' it, too. Thank you for last night."

He nods. "Doin' my job. I thought you should know that Ross's funeral will be tomorrow sometime. Figured you would want to be there. He'll be given a medal of honor," he tells me.

I close my eyes. "He'd like that. He always wanted people to be proud of him."

Taylor smiles. Then his face turns serious as he looks over at Messer and Monroe. "Do me a favor, Messer, close that door."

Danny steps inside, pulling Lindsay with him, and Taylor slides the door shut and closes the blinds. Taylor reaches one hand into his jacket. "I got a little something for you."

I close my eyes and squeeze Stella's hand. "Taylor, please don' tell me you're on the take!"

He smiles and pulls out a couple bottles of beer. I burst out laughing. "Taylor, you're my hero," I say as I'm handed a bottle. He also hands one to Danny Messer. He and Lindsay look at each other and smile.

"Yeah, well, we can't all be good guys all the time," Taylor says. "Drink up, you earned it."

"You know this stuff's illegal, right?"

"You gonna turn me in?"

I smile. "Nah." I turn to Stella, who's lookin' at me. "You wanna share some?" I ask her.

She responds by takin' the top off the bottle with her teeth. She flicks the bottlecap at me before downing part of the bottle. "Share that and a whole lot more," she tells me as she bends down to kiss me.

Damn, I do believe I love that woman. "You'd keep me around?" I ask her. "Smokin', drinkin', foul language, everythin'?"

She smiles. "They say a good man is hard to find," she says. "But I'm pretty sure I done all right."


End file.
